Annihilation and Apple Pie
by Forensiphile
Summary: Sara, Greg, and Nick digest the events of a horrific day. Post- Code Blue Plate Special. GSR.


**Title:** **Annihilation and Apple Pie**

**Author:** Forensiphile

**Rating:** K

**Spoilers: ** 13x2 – _Code Blue Plate Special_. Light allusions to _Goodbye and Good Luck_, _Bittersweet_, and _Dune and Gloom_.

**Author's note:** This is another response to YTDAWonFB Challenge #3; it contains the following elements:

Artichokes  
Apple Pie  
The phrase "It's magically delicious!"

Cheese

Putrid

Fewer than 1000 words.

Thanks to the lovely members of YTDAW and Kasey for posting this, a most challenging challenge.

**GGSS**

The diner was brightly-lit and somewhat sterile with its shiny metal walls and fixtures. It lacked the nostalgic charm of Frank's, but they wouldn't be returning there. There likely wouldn't be a Frank's in which to return. The mood at the table was glum, but resigned. Sara picked at the omelet on her plate, occasionally glancing over to her left to steal glances at Greg. He didn't seem to be having trouble eating, but he rarely did. This time, however, he lacked his usual gusto.

Nick was taking it worst of all, she thought. They had all been friendly with Vincent, but Nick had been the one to really establish a connection with him. Sara remembered sitting in a Denali alone more times than she could count on one hand, waiting while Nick stood sharing tidbits from his crime scenes or listening to the older man talk about his brother, his business, or the game from the night before. She had been so caught up in her anger over Edy's death and her rage at her stalker that the fate of Vincent and their beloved diner hadn't resonated with her. It was starting to resonate now. Sighing, she pushed her plate sideways toward Greg, who gave her a sad smile, but dove into the now-cold eggs nonetheless.

Picking up the ketchup bottle, he squeezed a copious amount over the eggs and hash browns. Sara held her nose in disgust. "Greg!"

"What?"

She shook her head. "That's a spinach and artichoke omelet."

He looked at her as if she had just told him the benches were made of vinyl. "And?"

"And that's revolting. Ketchup and artichokes?"

"Ketchup and anything. It's magically delicious."

"It's putrid."

Nick looked up for the first time. "Says the woman who puts cheese on her apple pie."

She waved her fork dismissively. "That's not that weird. People have done it for centuries."

"I don't care if royalty did it. It's still gross."

"Actually, it is an English thing. Chaucer once wrote about it. It's a Yorkshire apple pe. Apples, a good cheese, and figs. People would either layer it within the pie or crumble it on top. They usually used a hard, strong cheese like Cheshire or an aged cheddar."

Nick sighed. "Greg, slap her, will you? Her Grissom chip is on the fritz again."

Mock-offended, Sara slid to her right. "Where do you think I learned to eat it that way?"

Greg grinned and shook his head quickly. "I still can't believe you two are together. Grissom was always so straight-edge at work, but at home he was living with you and eating weird pie."

Sara nodded. "He's always been a man of mystery."

"No kidding." Nick rolled his eyes. "What I want to know is how you managed to solve it."

"The mystery?"

"Yeah."

Looking perplexed, she shrugged. "I'm not sure I did. I think I'm still putting the clues together. Luckily, he grades on a curve."

Greg laughed and downed the rest of his orange juice in one gulp. He looked around Sara for their waitress. Not seeing her, he grabbed Sara's.

"Oh, go ahead." She said, wryly.

A silence descended at the table. Nick tore at his napkin, deep in thought. Sara studied him, seeing his sadness from a sad place of her own. "So, tonight sucked."

"I can't believe it, Sara. We knew him. I knew him best of all. If someone told me that he was capable of murder, I would have told them they were insane. Yet he was. How can you feel like you know a person, but not know they're capable of something like this? What does that say about my ability to judge character?"

Sara met his gaze and gave him a rueful smile. "You can't know, Nick. You couldn't have known. There are sick, twisted people and there are people who are capable of doing sick, twisted things. And they could be sitting at the table next to us or in line behind you at the store or in your own home. People want to see the good in others. It's just instinct. It's what makes this job so hard." She paused and picked at the metal edge of the table with her fingernail. "For me, at least."

Greg nodded. "But you don't want to lose that, or the job will eat you alive. Looking for the evil in everyone would make what we do impossible."

Taking a deep breath, Sara steadied herself. She had left the first time because she had been in that place. At the time, she had chalked it up to her ordeal in the desert. More and more, however, she had to bite down surges of panic that this was it. This was her. Since the case involving the off-road racers, she had wondered how she could be fooled again in again in a line of work where deception and darkness was the rule, not the exception. But with Gina Sinclair, she had surmised the worst. With Baldesic, she had surmised the worst. She was wrong. Yet she felt no better for it. It was the most vicious of circles and she wondered if it would eventually consume her. And if it did, why she would allow herself to be consumed. She could accept that evil existed. What was harder to accept is that she could do nothing about it.

Unlike the last time she hit bottom, she knew she had choices. Unlike the last time, she knew she had an outlet. Unlike the last time, she felt compelled to stay. She just wished she had the insight to know why.

She shifted her eyes from Greg to Nick. "I hope that love and truth in the end are stronger than any evil or misfortune."

Greg lifted an eyebrow. "Grissom again?"

"Charles Dickens. Do you really think Grissom is the only one capable of having a profound thought?"

"I'll take your word for it."

The mood at the table remained somber and Sara shifted nervously. The conversation left her feeling exposed. Grissom had shown her that discussing her feelings could cure a lot of ills, but this was too new. Too fresh. A glance over at Nick found him staring out the plate-glass window, as far away as she'd ever seen him.

"Sara?" Greg's voice was tentative.

"Yeah." She steeled herself.

"Did you and Grissom ever compare IQ scores?"

She smiled. That was a question she could answer.

FIN


End file.
